


see you next time, cocaine cowboy

by thanatopis



Series: ode to the coke dealer [2]
Category: Overwatch (Video Game)
Genre: Drug Use, Jealousy, M/M, Mutual Pining, Sibling Incest
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-11-24
Updated: 2016-11-24
Packaged: 2018-09-01 23:56:02
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,226
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/8643154
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/thanatopis/pseuds/thanatopis
Summary: Prequel fic to 'ode to the coke dealer'Hanzo has a lot of things to think about: his future as the Shimada heir and successor, being considerate of the woman who is head over heels for him, and his indecent feelings for his brother. Cocaine seems like the only thing that makes any sense.





	

Hanzo struggles to hear Momoi over the pound of the music. They actively avoid the dance floor, both out of touch with the electronic dial up currently blaring over the speakers. How one can even _try_ to attempt to dance to such sounds is highly perplexing.

Hanzo seeks solace by the bar and Genji disappears not too long after he’s downed his first shot of the night, phasing into the thick of the crowd.

People recognize Genji immediately, pointing or greeting him with high fives or friendly pats on the back. He’s well known all around Hanamura; there’s not one local who doesn’t know his face or his infamous reputation, and Genji loves the attention—always has. Hanzo pretends not to watch out of the corner of his eye, cataloguing the shadowed faces and the lingering hands that yearn to touch his brother as he waits for his whisky sour.

Momoi orders a coke and rum even though Hanzo knows she only drinks to impress him. She’ll only take about two sips before she decides she’s finished with it, and then Hanzo will silently take that as a cue to finish the drink for her. It’s familiar; a routine they’ve have since he, Momoi, and Genji first found his father’s hidden stash inside his work desk drawer far away from his mother’s prying eye.

Even at 14, 11, and 10 Hanzo, Genji, and Momoi had been close.

Hanzo knows intrinsically Momoi is the woman his father, along with the elders wish for him to marry. Her family is an old, influential one, a helpful partner with arms trade, and ties that date back to the Shimada’s for hundreds of years; it doesn’t really seem to matter that they’re second cousins on his father’s side however.

It could’ve been worse, Hanzo thinks. It helps that he somewhat cares for her.

Swallowing the apprehension thick inside his throat, Hanzo wills himself to give Momoi his undivided attention. He silently curses Genji, who just _had_ to invite himself along because his younger brother can’t seem to help himself when Hanzo is involved.

Momoi has always liked Genji, so she doesn’t mind his intrusion on their would-be date—and it is a date—Hanzo is… _trying_ to get used to the idea of being intimate with her; knows he’ll most likely have to one day.

The thought is an overwhelming one, frightening enough to have the edges of Hanzo’s vision blur in panic. The looming responsibility of the Shimada clan is a heavy one, but it is his nonetheless.

Hanzo’s fingers twitch around the circumference of his drink; it’s been hours since he last snorted a line and he’s eager to chase the anxiety away with a new, fresh high. He’s not carrying any coke, but it shouldn’t be hard to find a guy who’s trying to make a few extra bucks, especially in a place like this.

The alcohol is a subpar substitute for now; the burn inside his throat welcome, similar the burn he gets in his nasal cavity when he snorts coke.

Momoi and Hanzo continue to chat, bodies angled towards each other so they can hear each other over the sound of the music without having to strain. Their knees bump every so often and Hanzo has to pretend he doesn't see the way Momoi looks at him.

They talk of mundane things; Hanzo asks how Momoi’s mother is doing since he heard about her scare with cancer a couple months ago, Momoi asks if Hanzo’s been able to master his control of his anxiety. Hanzo says he has, but won’t go into details about how he manages to keep the illness at bay.

Momoi tolerates a lot of the things Hanzo and Genji get up too, but Hanzo knows she wouldn’t approve of his new drug habit. In fact, she would probably be horrified by it, at how Hanzo sometimes changes, how he sometimes becomes less apt to care about anything, even himself.

He thinks he’ll either have to break the news or hide if from her when they eventually marry. He settles for the latter, knowing there are many things he’ll lie to her about in the future.

The conversation is not unpleasant like it usually is with most people. Hanzo doesn’t know how long they talk before Genji rejoins them, panting, fine sheen of sweat dotting his forehead as he gestures the waiter over and asks for another drink. He smiles at the both of them, friendly enough, but there’s something in it that strains around the corners of Genji’s mouth, like he’s trying too hard to be pleasant.

Hanzo’s brow arches in question. It’s not like Genji to be jealous, especially over Momoi.

“You should drink some water Genji,” Momoi helpfully offers. She looks at him up and down, sees how his chest heaves and how his cheeks are flushed from dancing.

Genji spares Momoi a look, shrugging as he watches the bartender make his drink. Hanzo vaguely recognizes the man; only knows that he and Genji went to school together and that he’s been working here since he graduated despite being underage.

“I’ll drink water when I’m dead,” Genji says. “I want boos right now.”

“Vodka and sprite—yes, with a goddamn olive on the side because you’re gross. I haven’t forgotten, you’re here often enough.” The bartender announces, sliding Genji his drink on a crisp white paper napkin.

Genji laughs, popping the olive into his mouth and holding it between his teeth to hear the skin burst under the crushing weight of his jaw. Hanzo watches it all with heavy eyes, oddly aroused by the sight as he takes a leisure sip from his own drink.

“Thanks Kazuma, you’re the best bartender in this whole goddamn city. Hope you know that.”

Kazuma, the bartender, rolls his eyes and wipes down his fancy bar with a rag. “Yeah, yeah, flattery’s still not gonna get you free drinks Shimada.”

Genji sighs, demure. He leans against the wood, shifting closer to Kazuma. “You know I’d be _exactly_ your type if you weren’t as straight as an arrow Jin, then I’d be getting more than just free drinks...”

Hanzo has never done well with Genji blatantly flirting with other people in front of him. It sets Hanzo on edge-- makes him want to lash out and hurt something. It also doesn’t help that it feels like Genji’s doing it on purpose, like he’s trying to punish Hanzo for some reason or another.

Hanzo frowns.

“Momoi and I are leaving soon, you’re welcome to stay and chat however.” Hanzo says, narrowing his eyes at his little brother, trying to dissect what’s going on inside that head of his head.

“Oh?” Genji hums, taking a quick sip. “Tuckered out already? Or are you just getting tired of the plus one? All you had to do was say you didn’t want me to come on your _little date_ and I would’ve fucked right off.”

Momoi shifts uncomfortably next to Hanzo, sensing the oncoming storm. He feels her desire to reach out and console Genji like she’s always done, not liking seeing either of them upset. She’s far too kind and considerate to be friends with them, Hanzo thinks again for the umpteenth time.

“Genji, it’s not that. I’m just tired, Hanzo was only going to take me home.”

Genji suddenly grins, bright and enthralling, and the mood change threatens to give Hanzo whiplash.

“Then we’ll take you home together!” Genji declares. He sounds like a spoiled, bratty child, all too used to getting what he wants. He smirks, closed-lipped and smug, shifting his eyes to Hanzo.

He leans in, murmuring for Hanzo’s ears only, “I wanna give Momo-chan a goodnight kiss too, it’s only fair, right Hanzo?”

* * *

“You’re a immature ass,” Hanzo coolly declares as they walk into the front room of Hanzo’s private quarters in Shimada castle. Hanzo shrugs out of his jacket, throwing it over the back of a chair in the front room as he empties his pants pockets and throws everything onto a small table.

He sighs tiredly, the coke in his room calling for him, but Genji has Hanzo turned around, pressed close to his chest before he can go seek it out. Genji smiles at him, slow and sultry, as he wraps his arms loosely around Hanzo’s neck. Hanzo thinks Genji’s trying to hug him for a moment before his hips start swaying back and forth.

Hanzo is impossibly stiff, hands hovering awkwardly right above Genji’s hips.

“What are you doing?” Hanzo asks, heart thumping loud inside his ears.

Genji only laughs and presses closer into Hanzo’s chest, his fingers shifting to embed into the soft hairs at Hanzo’s nape, bending him so his head is cradled in-between the crook of Genji’s shoulder.

“I want to dance with you,” Genji murmurs softly, caressing his other hand up and down Hanzo’s arm, inspiring tingles to run all over his body. “I never get to in public.”

There’s a reason for that, Hanzo knowingly thinks.

He swallows thickly, placing his hands on the small of Genji’s back, feeling how his spine curves under his touch. After a brief moment of hesitation, Hanzo starts to move with Genji, swaying his hips in a similar fashion to a silent beat.

“I’m not good at dancing.” Hanzo says as an excuse and apology both. It’s one of the many talents he couldn’t pick up in his youth, one of the very few that Genji flourished at instead of him.

“Aw, that’s not true anija,” Genji says, speaking directly into Hanzo’s ear. “You know how to fuck, so you most _definitely_ know how to dance. You just haven’t found the right partner to guide you.”

Hanzo’s blood runs hot, feels his blush reach the tips of his ears in a mortifying predictable manner. He squeezes Genji to him, breathes hotly over his neck, resisting the urge to bite and lick like he so desperately wants too.

“Genji—”

“Isn’t this nice? Me and you?”

It is. More than anything.

Hanzo doesn’t want to let him go. Genji truly feels like he belongs with Hanzo like this while he’s close and safe. It’s an illusion Hanzo can hold onto while they are alone behind closed doors. An illusion that doesn’t paint them as brothers, where his feelings aren’t incredibly inappropriate, where Genji feels like _his_ and Hanzo can express that in any way he damn well pleases.

They continue to sway against each other in lazy movements. Hanzo becomes completely attuned to Genji’s breathes, how he sighs every once and awhile in utter contentment against Hanzo’s shoulder. It’s erotic—unintentionally so; this overwhelming desire Hanzo cannot act on, but feels so close to being his that he can almost taste it on the tip of his tongue.

“You’re shaking...” Genji whispers. He slowly backs away, stilling the movement of their soundless dance as he looks up at Hanzo’s face. Genji’s expression is a mix of hopeful and venerable. His lips part, mouth working wordlessly and Hanzo wants to kiss him so badly in that moment that he pushes Genji roughly away, harder than he intended as his brother stumbles back in shock.

“Goodnight Genji,” Hanzo says, clipped and stiff.

He doesn’t wait for Genji’s response before he’s turned around, stepping into his room and sliding the doors shut with a wooden bang that doesn’t dare be re-disturbed again. Hanzo feels his eyes sting as he hurriedly makes way for the coke in his drawer. He dumps the bag with shaky fingers onto a cracked mirror, cutting himself two, thick lines that he snorts with a cut straw.

It becomes bearable then—the loneliness.

He does two more lines before he goes to lay on his bed. Hanzo doesn’t know how long he stays there, still fully clothed with his shoes on, when the quiet whoosh of doors sliding open interrupt his self-loathing pity party of a high.

The soft cushion of steps coming closer alert Hanzo of the intruder, but he’s simply to apathetic to turn his head and look. Hanzo vaguely hopes it’s not his father. He doesn’t think he has the capability to explain himself at the moment.

“Oh Hanzo—brother, you don’t have to do this.” Genji comes to sit beside him, a tissue in his hand as he gently wipes at Hanzo’s nose. When he pulls the tissue away, the blood on it surprises Hanzo--not necessarily because of his health, but because he hadn’t felt it. He thought he would’ve felt it.

“I love you so much,” Hanzo blurts out, his voice pained. Genji looks surprised for a moment before he controls his expression back into something neutral. “I don’t—I don’t know how to handle—this is the only way I…I’m sorry I pushed you.” Hanzo settles for.

Genji smiles softly, but his eyes are noticeably sad and sober.

“Hanzo, _shh_ , it’s okay. I understand. Just sleep. I’ll be here when you wake up.”

“I’m sorry,” Hanzo says again and again, each time quieter than the last as his lashes flutter shut. Genji’s fingers brush his hair, tenderly untangling the small knots he finds, prompting Hanzo to roll over onto his side and loosely hug his arms around Genji’s thigh.

“Brother, you have nothing to feel sorry for. Now sleep.”

Hanzo does.

**Author's Note:**

> Totally open for any coked up Hanzo AU requests.
> 
> Send them to me over on my tumblr, yamazaki-sousukes. I'll try my best to get to them.


End file.
